The Triwizard of Sixth
by Sirenic Griffin
Summary: AU: Hermione Granger has become an intelligent wallflower, abstract from her peers but that all changes in 6th when mysteries are afoot concerning the Triwizard Tournament and… worst of all she’s noticed. HPHG
1. Prologue: Zero Isn't Infinity

**The Triwizard of Sixth **

**_Summary:_** AU: Hermione Granger has become an intelligent wallflower, abstract from her peers but that all changes in 6th when mysteries are afoot concerning the Triwizard Tournament and… worst of all she's noticed. HPHG

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**Prologue **

_"Zero bears no relation to infinity, even in magic." _

**Dianna Wynne Jones **

* * *

"Hermione? Are you really happy there?" Her mother had asked her once during her fifth year and she'd found herself being monotonous and replying steadily that; yes, mum, I'm perfectly happy. And she was. Almost anyway. She got to learn magic. Something she'd wanted to learn since the day that Albus Dumbledore had turned up when she'd been seven and told her that she needed to control herself more. 

When she'd been seven she'd been able to turn rocks into kittens, and make things float.

When she'd been seven Hermione Granger thought she'd had friends. Then. Then that changed. She'd learnt 'control' and her former friends had began to avoid her. They'd began whispering and so she began a countdown on a five year planner, for the day she'd be with other people. Other people like her.

It had been a surprise for her parents to receive the letter. They'd thought it was a hoax till the fifteenth letter came out of Dumbledore hands and he'd demonstrated magic. She'd told her parents that she wasn't happy at school. They knew. Why else would a eleven, almost twelve year old girl, spend most of her time studying grade twelve textbooks? It might've been because she enjoyed the mental stimulation, and that was partly the reason. The other part was because she lacked friends.

She'd been a child prodigy and her parents, as long as she found herself a decent career where she was mentally stimulated, and earned enough cash, and did her courses over the summer holidays, were happy enough to let her study at a place called Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She was happy at Hogwarts, as happy as she'd been in her other schools anyway. She might've been far too ambitious on her first week and that had coloured everyone's opinions of her… She knew more than wizarding students and she had greater mastery. Why? Because she studied it almost 24/7 since Dumbledore had told her parents. It was interesting.

Her only fault was that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't fly.

So when she got back from the rewards her parents blessed her with; summers in Paris, Venice and almost all around the world, instead of going to her friends houses she'd spend every waking moment in her parents summer house in the English country. Trying to master the only skill that eluded her.

Her teacher's eventually noticed how far she was ahead of the other students and through the only option available she moved up in speeds that most but Dumbledore who knew the prodigy for what she was; a prodigy in both wizarding and muggle society, were astounded with.

Teacher's were the only ones who really noticed her anymore as she sat estranged from her year group. As she watched the boundless friendship between the youngest Weasley boy and latter the only Weasley girl, only Weasley female born in over sixty years, and the boy who lived, who was unfortunate enough to be her age. If it had been otherwise maybe she would've received the credit that she deserved. She watched as the two boys managed to take their house from the pits of despair to winning the house cup.

She watched as they solved the problems that Dumbledore had found allocated to her before the beginning of term. She watched the not-so-steady eyes of Remus Lupin and made sure that the Dementors didn't feed. She made sure, under Dumbledore's direction that innocents didn't die, and that traps were not tripped. She was completely invisible to the entire school. She didn't go through school with the year group she studied with. In actual fact she had graduated in three and half years but had been far too young. So she'd stayed around and studied finer points of wizardry but the tutelage of specialised professors.

She made sure that not too much trouble was going on.

Yes, mum, she was happy, but that was only because life had remained almost stagnant for her.

Hermione Granger was often bored and with Peeves the only company life really sucked.

Then the worst happened. In her sixth year of Hogwarts the Triwizard Tornament came to Hogwarts with an age restriction of sixteen. It was a spies nightmare and… she was noticed… and then Dumbledore put her back into mainstream because plots to kidnap the boy who lived and resurrection of he who must not be named were underway.

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**Author notes**: I've given up trying to get many chapters as I've gotten many many idea's (most of which I intend to post up today.), I intend to simply update the stories that have the largest following and (even if that is one review more than zero) post the entirety of what I have and let it rot, no longer sitting inside my computer. So it all depends on reviewing, ciao. 


	2. Chapter One: Books for the Soul

**The Triwizard of Sixth **

**Summary: AU:** Hermione Granger has become an intelligent wallflower, abstract from her peers but that all changes in 6th when mysteries are afoot concerning the Triwizard Tournament and… worst of all she's noticed. HPHG

* * *

**Chapter One **

_"A room without books is like a body without a soul."_

**GK Chesterton**

**

* * *

**A large green snake watched with chagrin as the man that she loved was reduced to a state that he was being cared for by food that she didn't even see fit to even attempt to digest. The rat-man scurried out of the room to fetch something else and Nagini moved, her tail and stomach coming into contact with the hard wooden floors. 

'_That one is not even fit for food. He's a rat that lives in plague and breeds fleas.'_ She hissed at her master who looked at her wanly, his blood shot eyes melting into his red pupils. He once had such beautiful eyes. Nagini remembered those. It had been his voice that had drawn her to him from the depths of the limitless forests of the world most deadly jungle but it had been his eyes that had entranced her to follow him, and it was loyalty to those that made her stay.

_'Although, I have to say, this state of yours isn't that much better.'_ His eyes met hers, and he glared and replied in his heavy accented parsel-tongue.

_´He will pay for doing this to me. All he has to do is fall into my trap… and the ministry fools have just started the paths to destruction…'_

Nagini let her tongue quiver in the air, testing and tasting it for the smell. It was raining and the rat-man was back and he'd brought in some despicable type of food for dinner. Un-natural food she called it, and slithered out of the room. She'd rather face the British Woods in the rain, for although summer was considered the warmest part of the year it was still a far cry from the heat she remembered living with in her native jungle.

* * *

However, there really was only one place in England that was not artificially created that resembled the jungle that Nagini dreamt so often of. It resembled it not because it was leafy or hot but it was chaotic and held the feeling that one could walk for days in either direction and not come out the other side and had that slightly stuffy, sticky feeling that tropical jungles tend to have. 

This place was often called a jungle, to which the wood that made it's floorboards and walls was exceedingly proud, but it was also often called a bog, a bombsite, a dump and a hovel.

This place was, to be far more politically correct, a bedroom belonging to two Weasley Siblings who found no enjoyment in sharing or rooming together and the fact was that neither Weasley's were very clean nor were they very tidy. The house was usually very empty all year round except for those particular summer holiday when the entire brood had come home to spend some beloved time with 'mummsy and daddy.' However the Burrow only really had five bedrooms and that left a slight over crowding problem.

Molly and Arthur had tried the best they could. After all it was impossible after all to fit seven children equally in four bedrooms, one of which was the attic. Bill and Charlie had been responsible had taken the attic-room and Bill had moved the ghoul to the basement, it had been the room they had shared to begin before moving out and it was again. Fred and George kept their room and Ron faced with either sharing his beloved room with Percy or begging his sister for her sympathy had taken the lesser of two evils.

Ginny's room had never looked better.

The youngest Weasley children were so proud, and as Harry looked around he whistled, a low note that sent shivers through the spiders who ducked for cover. For a moment, only a moment, he was glad he was staying away from his friends (but with Sirius in the House of Black instead). Ron grinned, and stretched over the large pile of dirty laundry and Ginny practically bounced on her chair, her eyes gleaming. The room wasn't the only thing that came from two Weasley's being in such close quarters. There was mischief afoot.

"I say, on a dark and stormy night," Ginny moved her hands dramatically in order to create a better picture, Harry and Ron looked at each other and Harry found himself twitching, not to grin and the twitch threatened to explode the later half of his face as he saw Ron grinning, and agreeing with the sister who was only thirteen months younger than him. It was a hard task for Ron to remain serious, especially when Ginny felt in a dramatic mood.

"We ambush Charlie and drag him down into the pits of the burrow to be attacked by the Ghoul who haunts it, and when he is still in possession of his wits, but barely, we force him to divulge the information that he has seen fit to hide from us." She cackled evilly and Harry shook his head.

Sirius had said he had needed a break but this was ridiculous.

His two best friends had been complaining ever since he had arrived about the fact that everyone else seemed to know something that they didn't. To quiet them down he'd given them Coke. Which they'd all wanted a taste since Harry had been complaining about Fat Dudley's drinking habits. It had been a bad idea.

"The night before we leave for Hogwarts?" He asked tactfully and Ginny nodded enthused.

"We've been trying all week, Harry, and they won't say anything but: wouldn't you like to know?" Ron nodded in agreement and began scrimmaging through the pile that looked like it was his entire wardrobe.

"Or, I wish I was still at Hogwarts." He said turning up his nose and throwing a yellow (previously white Harry guessed) sock into another pile.

"Or even, it'll ruin the surprise." Ginny said scowling and then looked at Ron.

"You mixed up the piles!" She said pouting and Ron grinned and extracted a large book from the bottom.

"All with cause." Ron said catching Harry's eyes… leaving Harry to realise the reasons wizards or witches didn't have soft drink.

It was too much of a hype up.

"What's the plan." He asked sighing and Ron grinned.

"We simply curse him with a balding charm. He'll be singing like an angel." Harry nodded, doubtfully agreeing and following them out of the tropical jungle and wondering how on earth they'd torture Charlie and be ready for the Hogwarts Express that would depart in less than twelve hours later.

Miles away from chaos brewing in the Weasley household and England, across the channel that separated France and England, and past the settlements of nomadic wizards and witches descended from the Gauls, and into the Germanic area of the country a man, who no longer was a boy, sat surrounded by a muggle community but he was not one of them.

It was almost nine in the morning, and he looked distastefully at the smoking masses and the clouds of human-made smog that filled the air. In appearance he fit in quite well: his straight hair fell into his sullen eyes, his grey coat pushed against him so that it was comfortable and his green scarf wrapped around his white neck in an attempt to keep warm. He looked like an everyday working class man striving for enough money to pay the bills, and perhaps help out his mother and younger siblings but he wasn't.

He fell into none of those categories.

He wasn't even an everyday man.

He was a wizard, and was, by no means the male equivalent of a witch.

"Can I help you, sir?" A lady asked him, she was wearing the coffee-shops uniform, and fit in with the atmosphere that came with the place. Unremarkable in everyway and if he didn't know any different he would've assumed she was. It was very improbable that many would ever give her a second look. Her pale skin could've come from a number of European branches that had been scattered throughout the western world, as could any of her features from her nose, hands, eye-shape or body shape, all of which were generally unremarkable to an extent that she could fit with an ease of a master into any European-based society. In height she was a perfect average, not too tall to attract attention, nor short to do so in the other extreme, her eyes were a brown colour that also tended to blend her into the back ground.

She'd remarked once that she was the perfect plain Jane. And her only outstanding features were her hair which preferred, much to her annoyance to run a wild bushy course but she found strength that could tame it into hairstyles so it strained in its holders. The other feature was her teeth; oversized and buck-toothed when she was younger she'd attempted to rectify them with shrinking spells to her parents displeasure and managed to placate them by going to the orthodontist and being fitted with the oddest of muggle torture devices: braces. She wore them now, and fit perfectly into the scene as a quaint little waitress. It was easy for her.

"Excuse me, sir? This isn't a park. If you want to sit here, you buy something." He glared at her and dismissed her own opinions about being plain Jane. For what Hermione Jane Granger lacked in appearance she made up in brilliance.

"Sorry, been a long night. I'd like a coffee, with new dregs not the old stuff sitting it that pot and today's paper." She nodded, fixing a smile onto her face and went behind the counter. The man shut his eyes and placed his head on the table and took a deep breath.

School began in less than three days and then hell would probably break loose.

"That's not good for the brain," She replied with a grin and handed him the paper.

"Your coffee will be ready shortly." He nodded and flicked open the paper. And caught the sight of movement in one of the frames. His eyes flashed up to meet hers and she grinned, showing the glint of black plastic and silver metal.

"It seems that this year will be very interesting, if you look at the forecasts." She replied, grin fading to a smile, a cloth already in her hand and wiping the table that a couple had recently vacated.

"I'd say it will be a very chaotic year indeed, with both the old men." He commented and shook his head at the article that covered the front page. It was the British Wizarding Newspaper. The Daily Prophet. He hadn't seen it for ages…. And it seemed like nothing had changed. Apparently Cadmus Bulstrode had married again, this time to the reputable Fredericka Fruggle, it was an approvement to the half-banshee, half-muggle that had been Millicent's mother, but only just.

"The community has been far too quiet and filled with ridiculous tales for my liking." He continued, browsing and Hermione nodded.

"I hope to keep it that way."

"And I don't?" The man asked affronted and she gave him a look and moved to his table, wielding her mighty cloth. Her hand methodically moving in circles. He took the opportunity to deposit the information which was the reason for their meeting. Germany of neutral ground. Her voice was low and full of warning as she leaned in to straighten the shakers.

"Lie low, sir. I expect you to be fully aware at what happens at your school. After all it would be awful is somebody tried to stir up the woes of the elder generations among the younger." His brow furrowed and a ping was heard at the back of the coffee shop. Hermione let her cloth fall over her arm and darted back to the pot.

The next page had a tiny column dedicated to politics. Cornelius Fudge was looking good for the election, Augusta Longbottom had portrayed an interest into investigating the destruction of a large amount of security wards in wizarding households from London to Birmingham. At the bottom, only a picture the size of a thumb nail and three lines remained of a call for the public to be aware of, and bounty hunters to follow the entrapment of one Sirius Black.

Hermione got back, a hot coffee mug steaming between her pale hands.

"Here, you go sir, have a nice day," She said smiling and handed the hot pottery to his outstretched hand.

"I'll look after Durmstrang, Miss Granger." He said in a low voice and she met his eyes, but this time she was out of character. No grins or smiles were given.

"That's very good, because apparently I'm being reinstated as a Hogwarts student, you know, as 'protection for the saviour'." His pale eyebrows shot up and she nodded, and turned around swiftly travelling to the next table and chatting with the elderly man. He watched her for moment. A large white envelope disappearing into her pocket, he could feel that inside the newspaper a similar envelope that was to be read and destroyed before he departed on the hazardous trip to the boys-school in Bulgaria.

* * *

Hermione signed off the paper work roster that detailed her thirteenth and final shift at the coffee place. She glanced at the rack of coats and bags and located hers easily: the charcoal coloured coat was easy to spot compared to the brighter colours of her 'co-workers' as was the patchwork handbag against the more sophisticated and popular bags. The chains hanging off jingled uneasily and she smiled, fingers tracing the miniature owl, cat, and the final two: one which seemed like a wooden box, the other far more ambiguous.

"You going 'ome?" Another girl – Rose she remembered - who had finished at the same time as her asked and Hermione jumped.

"Yeah, back to England." The girl's unusual violet-coloured eyes brightened.

"Wow that's - " the sound of a ringtone went through the room and the girl looked apologetic and tug into one of the pockets of her black jacket.

"Well, see you then Jane." She said and flipped open the phone. Conversation over. Hermione shook her head and made her way to the bathroom, and locking herself within the disabled stall. Durmstrang began three days later than Hogwarts and if she was on time she'd have enough time for the ever pleasant opportunity of 'class-mate bonding' on the train.

In the privacy of the disabled toilet she discarded the apron that had been the only part of the uniform supplied to her, and quickly scanned the Durmstrang student's messages, he raised only three titbits that she had not already known.

"It seems like this'll be an interesting year indeed," She whispered and slipped into her charcoal jacket, and fiddling inside her pockets for both a cigarette lighter and the object shaped like a cigarette lighter. Taking hold of both items, she rolled the thick envelope into a cylinder and expertly set the paper on fire. The remains were flushed down the toilet. The fire-alarms dead from constant smoke abuse didn't pick up a thing. She looked sceptically at the ceiling, and spotted the camera and smiled to herself as she sat down on the toilet lid and filing the yellow cigarette lighter in her pocket removing the other lighter shaped object. Her bag sat on her lap, and she flicked the lighter in her hand, instantly all the lights in the building flickered and all went out.

Apparition in about a minute afterwards was an easy procedure; registering and appearing on Platform 9 ¾. She was early and she spent the rest of her time distracting herself by transfiguring her coat back into robes, retrieving her sweater and tie from the handbag and assuring the keychain of her owl Orpheus and the furious feline Crookshanks that they wouldn't stay key-chains forever… just until arrival at Hogwarts.

However when that was all done, and perfected she was left with watching, with a heavy heart and a stomach that felt it could touch the floor, the hustle and bustle that would become part of her school life.

_"Hermione? I know you hate leaving early for school, but are you sure your okay with this?" Her mother asked, the lovely woman packed the new car needlessly because all the registered witch had to do, and was going to do was transfigure everything as soon as she got to the platform. Hermione grinned, her mother was always slightly highly strung. The woman hated the fact that her and her husband started work weeks before Hermione went back to school and had always made sure the holidays before work were twice as exciting as other students._

_"Yeah, the headmaster just has some final things to iron out. It'll help, I swear." Her mother nodded still biting her lip._

_"Are you sure? I mean, he's old and I worry because you don't talk about-" Hermione cut her off with a gesture._

_"If it makes you feel better, we're thinking about sending me back to classes. For security measures." Her mother's eyes brightened._

_"You'll be with people your own age." She nodded._

Suddenly that idea didn't sound so good but as the Hogwarts Express train let off a sharp squeal and she felt the jolting pressure as the train began to move to it's destination somewhere in Scotland. Students were already moving. Laughing. Pushing around her and she moved towards the centre of the train.

Hoping against hope that she'd at least get an empty carriage before dealing with the children her age. Her contacts were different. So many of them had seen too many things to ever be a child ever again.

These people, although they were age, some even older, were infants compared to their counterparts. She suddenly felt very old and pushed open one of the doors falling forwards as the train jolted again and straight into a crowded carriage full of her former classmates. The Boy-Who-Lived included.

She swallowed, very glad she hadn't transfigured the work pants into the skirt the governors liked the girls wearing.

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Reviews are an Author's Payment.  
You don't walk out of a DVD shop without putting down at least a dollar (thank you $1 Tuesdays!), please don't walk out of here without at least sending word that you liked it. 


	3. SideStory 1: Granny Jones and Hermione

**The Triwizard of Sixth **

**Summary: AU:** Hermione Granger has become an intelligent wallflower, abstract from her peers but that all changes in 6th when mysteries are afoot concerning the Triwizard Tournament and… worst of all she's noticed. HPHG

* * *

**Author Note: **I wrote this for the beginning of Chapter Two and then I realized that the style was completely different for the fiction… but I liked it and it fit in with the story and I couldn't change the style (… er) and I couldn't see it as a separate story so I decided to post it as a side story while I re-write the Chapter (again) to give background into the Hermione character that I've drawn in my head. Apologies, but it is really hard to write train meetings (… harder than I thought) as A) the train is completely different from what I'm used to B) I met my friends in class or just started to randomly talk to them or C) I feel guilty. 

This 'chapter' was inspired because I've recently been to a medieval festival and watched the roma's/gypsy's dance (so jealous…) as well as the fact that I've recently been forced to read Seven Little Australians (a book written over a hundred years ago) (even if you aren't Australian I suggest you read it. You don't even have to go anywhere it's on ebooks: (_www.gutenberg. org/dirs/etext03/slaus11 .txt) _because of uni and even though I still knew everything that was going to happen I still cried and got all serious about everything hence this. (plus I found my decks). This also sort of fits with the next chapter but is in a completely different style.)

* * *

**Side Story 1#**

**_Hermione, Divination,_**

**_and her Grandmother _**

* * *

Her mother had told her once when she'd been very small and full of wonder –a naïve wonder only given to those blessed with childhood– that she had the gypsy blood of the Roma's running through her veins. She'd been fascinated by the long spirally dresses, the bells, dancing and the laughter that had shimmered in their eyes. She'd investigated and dug so many tales out from any source that she could find that her wild grandmother, Granny Jones, had laughed, long and hard. 

Hermione hadn't missed the sadness that she'd seen rested in those old, world-weary green eyes, dulled by both age and past experiences but as a young child it hadn't registered in her brain that her grandmother was hurting. And then she'd grown out of that stage, the stage of childhood that had brought the love of tales. It had happened slowly but realizing it had hadn't. It had happened in an instant when she realized that she'd grown past the love and the folklore.

She'd past the Tarot Cards and ways of fortune, something she'd loved so much and memorized that the Hogwarts Class had made her very unaccepting and angry. It might've been a stage but to create such a class had almost been an outrage to her past.

It was a mockery. Or so she thought.

She'd taken the class, as she'd taken all of them but couldn't stand the woman pretending to be mystical and all knowing but really and no idea what she was on about. It had once been said that true talent came from suffering and the many put into ones labor and the woman, the Professor Trelawney, was simply a fraud who liked gaudy jewelry, smoke and looking at books that other gaudy people believed were ways of telling the future. In her own way Sybil Trelawney was the Lockhart that remained at Hogwarts. When she had said on the first day that divination couldn't be learned it was inborn Hermione had known the woman was a fraud. All talents, whether inborn or not had to learned. The woman was simply getting off on her grandmother's talent that came from suffering. She had not put in any effort into her craft at all.

Her grandmother and great-grandparents had.

And they'd suffered for it.

Suffered to such an extent that when her grandmother had met Mark Jones she'd married him and had abandoned and discarded her roots.

Her family had suffered through the Second World War.

Her grandmother, gypsy by culture and trade, had been twelve and had been lucky to survive the Holocaust that not only exterminated Jews but the other minorities of the area.

When she'd grown past the stories she'd began to be interested in the stories _underneath _those stories, the stories hidden with and told behind them and she'd also began to be interested in why her grandmother had never been the one to tell her them. It had always been her English grandfather while her grandmother sat and smiled a crooked smile. She'd asked Grandmother Jones why and the woman had told her off the Great Wars.

She'd known about them in history but she hadn't known that other's, other than the Jews had suffered. Her grandmother had told her about that war from first hand experience, she'd told the stories of pain and suffering, stories that were the underneath to a very sad nomadic race. Her grandmother showed her the scars on her old back that came from the war and she then she told Hermione why she'd told her.

Grandmother Jones was so sure that she was going to be a 'higher-up' person in the government and it would be her responsibility to make sure the atroscities never happened again, or at least within her lifetime.

"Hermione, you are lucky," The old woman with had said in a accent that came from both her native tongue and being fluent in so many other euro-centric languages, "You are ¾ English. You will never feel what it is like to be hated simply because of what you were born as."

And Hermione had believed her till her letter and the following year when became disillusioned with society and mankind.

For 'wizards' and 'witches' who were oh-so superior to muggles deemed themselves too great to learn from a muggles mistakes.

History had repeated itself like it so often did and Hermione was so annoyed.

Why couldn't they learn from it?

When she'd found in her research existence of an Anti-Racism Group known as 'The ORDER OF THE PHEONIX' She'd begged Dumbledore, the proclaimed leader and president, to allow her entry.

Denied on a basis of age.

Then she'd heard rumors of Voldemort, the perpetrator, instigator and scapegoat, behind the first wizarding war was on the return.

And she couldn't do anything. She could see history again begin it's endless cycle of repeating itself.

She'd talked to Grandmother Jones.

And watched as her grandmother's eyes went dark, reliving the memories of starvation, torment and as they watched the line of old people, sick people and the dependent young people walk into the shower rooms.

She'd had nine siblings at the onset of the war.

The youngest three had gone into the showers and hadn't come out.

Of the four boys only two had been alive in at the end. Her eldest brother had died of a combination of sickness and starvation afterwards and the other had stayed to live in Germany.

Of her three sisters, one died, one moved or rather fled to the America's, and the other sister, close to her in age had fallen in love with an Australian soldier and he had helped her immigrate. Her great-grandparents bodies forever lay disguised, but not forgotten, in one of the many prison camps.

It was not her grandmother's world that told her to fight back whenever chance arouse.

It was her crushed green eyes.

They had once been a beautiful emerald green like her mother's. Now they were a faded green, a color comparable to the eucalyptus leaves of her sister's new homeland.

Hermione reaffirmed her vows silently as she stared into another pair of emerald eyes that would become if the event remained in its present spiral very like her grandmothers.

A person's who would unavoidably be pulled into the war.

Harry Potter.


	4. An Author's Note & Tentative Chapter Two

**Author Note:**

**Read before the story otherwise you will disappointed. **

Dear Fans of Fanfiction (actually of this particular story)

It is probably hard to understand (maybe also so for those who know me) but I am rather nervous, paranoid and slightly obsessive compulsive person. I need to have things perfect, especially when people rely on me. That's why I was freaked out by your awesome response and for me at least I think the 33 people who reviewed, the 3125 people who were Hits, the 5 people who added it to their communities, the 13 people who added it to their favourites and those 39 others who alerted it are an awesome response. It's just mindboggling for somebody who really doesn't have much faith in their own writing. Especially when I believe that I have only given you all one descent chapter that still needs work.

And it's because your support that I figure that it'd be best if I sent this information out through the chapter system. I know this story has potential (you all be my judge) however all I have in my head is that one scene at the cafe of Hermione handing 'X' (I know his identity) information in a spy like manner, the knowledge Hermione isn't part of the Order of the Phoenix, and the key moment when this universe was pulled away from the cannon universe. I have tried since I wrote that chapter to think of a central force, the bits and pieces... anything really that brings a spark to the work or that makes any sense (I guess this is what they call writers block) and I've failed. I have folders full of failed suggestions (which I won't bring up here because It'll be an evil virus that invades others minds and cause road blocks there). I figure because the past few days have had another rush of enthusiastic readers that you might just help.

My Hotmail account is: sirenic (underscore) griffin (at etc.), I also use this account for MSN Messenger and am available for chat, usually. I live in Australia (GMT + 10hrs) but I am also a University Student and keep odd hours. I appreciate all help from registered Fanfiction-ites to those who prefer not to register at (I gave my email address for this reason as Fanfiction-ites can IM me but then MSN messenger is more face-to-screen) I appreciate all help, also this idea was spawned by the anon. Reviewer who tried to give me their email and failed.

Any help you can give is much appreciated from brainstorming, ideas, your opinions on where the story could go, ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING is useful, even just an offer to beta (... never had one before.... don't really know what it does), an email. I need your help.

The snippet below was written on the fifth of August 2007, and was the most developed of the all the Ch02's that I could recover off my burnt out computer hard-drive.

Enjoy, I think it would've originally been Chapter 2, now excuse me while I attempt to help my brother with his Japanese Assignment.

~Sirenic_Griffin~

* * *

**The Triwizard of Sixth**

_**Summary:**_ AU: Hermione Granger has become an intelligent wallflower, abstract from her peers but that all changes in 6th when mysteries are afoot concerning the Triwizard Tournament and… worst of all she's noticed. HPHG

**Chapter Two**

_"Fatigue is the best pillow."_

**Benjamin Franklin**

She gulped nervously, but had yet to move off the floor from her very comfortable position.

He looked healthier than his first year self, more muscular but still retaining his small build perfect for his seeker career. His jaw was thicker-set but he was most certainly not a pretty-boy. His black hair was messy and somewhat long at the back.

And his green eyes, although they had been touched by death they hadn't seen it.

It was unlikely anybody on this train had.

"Are you okay?" She was suddenly aware of a voice – the Boy Who Lived's voice – speaking to her.

"Ye-" She began before a coughing fit overcame her. A white hand handed her a water bottle and she gazed gratefully into the red-headed boys blue eyes. He blushed from his ears but she took no notice downing half the bottle. The metallic taste of chemicals met her tongue and she grimaced and handed the bottle back. The water obviously was rainwater stored most probally in a metal tank or jug.

"Thank-you." She said, pulling herself off the floor.

"You wouldn't believe how that tastes after a month drinking bottled water." The red head, if possible, turned redder.

"It's ma, she-" Hermione shook her head.

"Don't worry. The air at least is cleanier and I haven't drunkedn or slept for at least twelve hours., Anything tastes better compared to that." He nodded and she turned her attention to the other children of the compartment.

Another red-head. Female. Similar to both the boy and graduates Fred and George.

Two Weasleys. Duh.

A boy with hair that fondly reminded her of chocolate milk and eyes the annoying blue-colour one painted a baby boys bedroom was staring at with a thoughtful expression. Neville Longbottom, the first wizard she'd come into contact with. His brow was furrowed as if he was trying to remember something.

A blonde with radish earrings. Must be of course Luna Lovegood.

An awkward silence descended on the cabin and would've continued if Neville hadn't had a rare of moment of brilliance. He had come across what he'd forgotten.

"Your Hermione Granger." He said loudly and Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully. Her mouth twitched.

"Are you Trevor Prewitt?" She asked biting her lip and Neville looked ghastly.

"No,"She continued again, moving to an unoccupied seat and settling herself down to lean against the corner.

"That was the toad. Your Neville londbottom 1." She said pointing her fingure at him and then pointing at Harry.

"And your Neville Longbottom 2." She smiled and snuggled herself into the seat ready for hibernation.

"Or-" She yawned loudly. "Or you were the summer of third year." Her eyes shut and she snuggled into her coat.

She regulated her breathing and waited for her body to rest as the cabins voices washed over her.

---

"Neville Longbottom 2?" choaked Ginny as she looked Harry in the eye. The sixteen year old sent her a glowering look.

"It was after I blew up Aunt Marge. I thought I was a WANTED man. I thought if I was discovered that they'd snap my wand." Ginny raised a delicate blonde eyebrow.

"I was TWELVE! Not even thirteen yet besides I thought you'd get more punishment after what happened last night." HE settled back into his seat next to Ginny which was coincidentally next to Hermione. Ron was staring at the their invader with wonder, or at least something very close to it.

"Ron." Ginny hissed and her elder brother's eyes flashed in her direction then back to the girl.

"Ron, it's rude to stare." The blood rushed to his face and he deliberately turned away.

"And she's probally not asleep yet. It isn't natural to fall asleep so fast." She muttered but Ron ignored her.

"Why do you think she'd here?"He asked them softly and Ginny shrugged.

"I dunno. You guys only mentioned her twice in your letters. First as a know-it-all who couldn't fly yet lectured you on Charms and second and as the person who got attacked by Quirrel's Troll." Ron nodded.

"She didn't go to classes after that. First we thought it was because she was in the hospital wing, then we heard she was in St Mungo's because it was delicate work then that her parents had pulled her from the school." Harry nodded.

"That's probally why she's back. To resume her education, or it might have something to do with whatever your brother's were hinting at."

"So, she might know something?" Ginny's eyes brightened.

"Or she might not." Said Neville looking at the 'sleeping form.'

"I still say that they were invaded by Snor-" Luna began when the door surged open. A rather short girl with honey-blonde hair and bluish eyes stood in the doorway. Whatever Luna had been about to say was interrupted by Lavender's loud trained soprano voice.

"Ron! We have a prefects meeting." Ron nodded and turned bak towards his conversation with the Primary and Secondary members of Dumbledore's golden group.

"Now Ronald." The girl said firmly looking at his. Ronald gulped and pushed himself away from the seat.

"See you guys later at the Great Hall." He said mumbling and followed the domineering Gryffindor into the corridor. Ginny huffed and looked around for a moment. Her eyes falling on Hermione again.

"Do you suppose…" She began and Harry met her gaze.

"No."

"You didn't let me finish."

"The answer is still no."

"But Harry- "

"No."

"Oh come on-"

"No."

"Fine. I will start singing."

"Your intitled to freedom of speech just like Neville, Luna and I are intilted to freedom of action."

"Fine." Ginny opened her mouth and looked for the right words.

"One thousand and fourteen piles of dragon dung to clear,

One thousand piles of dung.

You pick on up and

You bottle it up

One thousand and thirteen piles of dragon dung to clear!"

She glared at the others but Luna and Neville had began a convestion involving the uses of a WeepingBell plant and Harry was staring at her in amusement, waiting for her to continue. She set her jaw and took up the challenge.

Harry closed his eyes and blocked his ears and took a deep breath.

Happy thoughts. He mummered to himself, in a mantra similar to the mantra that involved dementors, and he willed himself to ignore the shrill voice remenesnt of one Molly Weasley.

--

She knew it was half an hour to arrival. She couldn't explain how she knew. She just always did. The cabin had fallen silent after a yawned 'Eight hundred piles of dung and that had been.


End file.
